


Apostle of Blood

by soulmate328



Series: Chaldea Album [2]
Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Melty Blood (Video Game), Tsukihime (Visual Novel & Anime), ロード・エルメロイⅡ世の事件簿 - 三田誠 | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files - Sanda Makoto
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Aphrodisiacs, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Desperation, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Human/Vampire Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, Seduction, Situational Humiliation, There's only one Vlad don't be mistaken, Tragedy, Underage Sex, Vampires, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29782743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328
Summary: "Foolish king," TATARI licked his lips with the grace of a cat, and those fingers caressed Vlad's cheeks almost gently, leaving trails of red on his porcelain skin. "I am Dracula the Vampire. All blood is offering to me, and all tyrants my apostles. So is your blood-smeared life my most nutritious food."
Relationships: Fujimaru Ritsuka/Vlad III | Berserker, Fujimaru Ritsuka/Vlad III | Lancer of Black
Series: Chaldea Album [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183772
Kudos: 1





	Apostle of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I'm surprised that I haven't seen anyone write about this before. Anyway, this fic has been in my plan ever since I heard the name "Night of Wallachia." I just have to, there's no way I can just let this go, even if they're in two universes. I just have to arrange a meeting for Wallachia and Vlad.

"The joy of being alive? Drinking blood is my only joy."

"I would pour blood in the Holy Grail to appease my thrist. Hmph, what could be more luxurious than that?"

That said, everyone in Chaldea knew how much Vlad hated being a vampire. He was dignified enough to compensate the damage he did in the library (tearing up vampire novels and movie disks) with extra work and fights, but he certainly wasn't forgiving enough to stop (accidentally) doing that.

"So ... your actual wish to the Holy Grail is to wipe out the rumor of you being a vampire, right?" Ritsuka asked after they returned to Chaldea. They just finished a minor matter in the London singularity, ending it with Vlad winning a glorious duel with a dragon and telling a bunch of pedestrians how Vlad III Tepes was definitedly not a vampire[1].

"Nonsense. This body is a monster craving for blood, and my only desire is blood. No more."

"You know ... it's really no use saying that by this point, Voivode."

The monarch shot him a cold glare, and Ritsuka shuddered a little, though not particularly afraid, since he felt no real anger from Vlad. "I ... I didn't mean to offend you, my lord."

"I know, but you have, offended me."

"I ask for your forgiveness."

"Granted."

Ritsuka had wanted to roll up his sleeve and offer his wrist, as was the custom between them, but Vlad frowned at the sight of it, waving his hand away. Noticing Vlad's distraught, Ritsuka gathered his courage and pressed on.

"I only wish to help you, my lord. Isn't there a contract between us? Am I not your Master? How can I help you fulfill your wish if you don't tell me what your real wish is?"

They had arrived in Ritsuka's room, and he closed the door to make sure no one enter without knocking, giving Vlad the private space he probably needed. Leaning against the wall as Ritsuka made coffee for himself, Vlad remained silent for a long while before confessing.

"Yes. It is my wish, to stop the humiliating tale of me being a blood-drinking freak. I will not allow such fantasy to tarnish my family name for centuries and more."

Ritsuka sat on the edge of his bed, offering Vlad to sit down in his chair, but the Voivode refused. "That certainly sounds like a wish that requires some sort of miracle," said Ritsuka. "But what do you plan to do with the Holy Grail?"

"Pardon me?"

"I've heard that the Grail is not a pure wish-granting machine. It has a mechanic; it's basically a huge mass of mana, so large that it's possible to do a lot of things with it. But it doesn't just make whatever wish come true; there must be a process of operation. There has to be a method. What's your method, my lord?"

In truth, that was not a problem he had thought about. "What do you suggest?"

"What ... what do I suggest?" Ritsuka blinked in confusion.

"Yes, I ask for your opinion, since you are my vassal."

"Uh ... well ... " Ritsuka scratched the back of his head. "I guess ... if you only want the vampire tale gone, you can just travel back in time and stop the novel from publishing? You know, the one called _Dracula_ , written by Bram Stoker."

"Only want the vampire tale gone? I sense there're other meanings in your words, Master."

"Well ... it's actually simple, right? Even if that novel doesn't exist, there might be other stories that tarnish your reputation. You've made people afraid of you, frightened of you, and that's just what would happen."

"Yes, I understand there would be slanders, after what I've done. This I will not childishly deny. What I could not bear are fantasies created for pure pleasure."

"But my point is, there might be other fantasies. You never know this kind of thing; maybe it won't be vampires, but ... what if something even worse appears? Forgive me for saying this, but that's not impossible. You don't know what humans can think of for entertainment or out of prejudice."

"What could possibly be worse than a vampire, a blood-drinking monster?"

"Well, what about a necromancer? Collecting bodies to create an army of walking dead? What about a mad medieval scientist or alchemist seeking eternal life through human experiments? What about a freak with weird sexual kinks of penetration with spikes?"

Vlad lifted his brows at the last one, and Ritsuka turned as red as an apple. "I ... I wasn't ... "

"I see that you have your fantasy, Master."

"Anyway, you get my point. It's definitely possible that it gets worse."

"So you suggest a permanent solution then?"

"Yes, exactly."

"And what solution do you have in mind?"

Ritsuka contemplated for a moment, his expression turning solemn. He put his mug down on the table, hesitated a little, and decided to look Vlad in the eyes. Vlad had always appreciated that courage in him.

"As far as I see it ... there's really only one permanent solution," said Ritsuka. "If going in back in time is possible, you can always undo what you've done."

Vlad pursed his lips.

"It's the impaling that leads to the vampire stories, right? Then ... perhaps you could, I mean, not do it. I'm not saying you shouldn't kill those people ... but perhaps you can just kill them in the ... common manner? Lop off their heads or hanging or something. You're still gonna be treated as a tyrant, I think, but at least ... at least they won't have any chance to call you a monster."

Vlad turned away from his Master, brooding.

"Rejected."

"Why?"

"Taking their lives are not sufficient; that was why I didn't stop there. Any man can boast about killing hundreds and thousands of foes on the battlefield. It was not enough, not for me. My enemies were strong, and fear is needed, crucial, to keep them from invading my country."

"Yes ... yes, I remember," said Ritsuka. "'I fear no human, but the devil is different. Not out of hatred, nor even enjoyment, but as a necessary sacrifice to bring terror to the enemy.'[2]"

"I see that you understand; you should've proposed a better solution."

"But what other solution could there be? There will always be the possibility of becoming the victim of dark fantasies, as long as you still have your reputation as the Impaler."

Vlad turned abruptly to face his Master, robes flapping like shadowy squires trailing at his heels, emerald eyes blazing like the ignis fatuus (ghost fires) in scary stories.

"Do you suggest I expose my country to the danger of being conquered? To be trampled by the mighty forces of my nemesis, to be subdued by the Ottomans?"

"No."

"Then what is it that you're trying to tell me?"

Ritsuka swallowed, and slowly he stood, in order to meet Vlad's eyes properly.

"If you believe you've done the right thing ... if you believe what you did was necessary, why don't you leave it be?"

Silence fell upon them. It wasn't that Vlad could not comprehend Ritsuka's words - he could, perhaps a little too thoroughly - but that he refused to comprehend them. His dignity and pride refused to.

"No," was all he could say, though his voice weak enough to make himself felt shameful.

"You've defended your country; isn't that your sole purpose? If there is a way to cleanse your name, I would like to know myself; but the one I just proposed is all I can think of, to undo the things that gave people the chance to call you a monster. If undoing them is not the right thing to do ... then why don't you just leave it be? You don't have to do anything."

"And let my family name, my father's name before me, be forever rememered as the blood-drinking monster?" Vlad almost growled in frustration. "To allow ignorant fools interpret Dracula as the devil, instead of the dragon as it should be?"

Ritsuka was already shivering from the sight of the Berserker's rage, but he stood his ground despite the sweat on his brows.

"Then there's only the option of exposing your country to the danger of being conquered," Ritsuka said calmly. "To be trampled by the mighty forces of your nemesis, to be subdued by the Ottomans."

Slowly, Vlad closed his eyes. He should've expected the coming of this day; perhaps he had been expecting it since the beginning, the day when someone pointed out the truth to him, that his wish, his obsession, was impossible to achieve.

"Leave it be, you say? You spoke as if it's the easiest thing to do, when people connects your name to monsters craving blood," he said bitterly, almost to himself.

Ritsuka lowered his head; not out of fear, but out of the guilt hurting his Servant with his words. "I'm sorry, my lord," he kept his eyes on the ground, offering up his wrist once more.

Vlad gazed at the thumping veins on his arms, and driven by sudden thirst, he pushed it away and captured his Master's head instead. Ritsuka was forced to lift his chin and eyes, surprised, a little bit afraid, and perhaps with a tinge of timidness, feeling the Voivode's palms on his cheeks and those delicate, handsome features so close to him. Vlad moved one hand into the young man's dark hair, pulling slightly to tip his head backwards, exposing the tender neck beneath the collar. The rhythm of blood thumping in the throat was far more enticing than that in the wrist. Surrendering to his hideous thirst, Vlad leaned in and sank his teeth into the slightly tanned skin, enjoying the intoxicating sweetness of blood pouring down his throat.

Ritsuka groaned softly, suppressing the urge to struggle. The sound kindled something in Vlad, something dark and urgent, towards the young man in his arms who's his Master and vassal, so close to his heart and just so brutally revealed to him the cold truth, yet with such warm, pumping blood. The urge was so strong that he was suddenly afraid of himself, and pulled away from the young man's throat in a haste. Ritsuka was panting in front of him, a faint blush on his cheeks, his sapphire eyes glittering with moisture. The Charm of bloodsucking had worked on him, due to Vlad directly drinking from his neck.

Vlad left without a word, as if to escape from the sight. He wanted to invite his Master to taste the disguting sweetness in his mouth, wanted to punish him severely for saying such words to him. The thoughts did not scare him, but shamed him greatly. He was no monster, no blood craving beast; he was the Voivode of Wallachia. He can, must, control himself.

That was long before they were driven from Chaldea and went into exile, and now that they had resettled in the Wandering Sea, the memory of that converstaion felt like a distant dream to both of them.

Having subdued - doomed, according to Ritsuka himself - two lostbelts, the young Master was in constant depression and guilt. In truth, all Servants who were once soldiers on the battlefield could understand him, the necessary evil committed to achieve victory, but none could offer him comfort, for there was none in the first place. The Master simply had to bear it.

"Is it what you felt when you impaled people on spikes, my lord?" He asked when Vlad came to his room one day, with a bitter smile on his face. "Did you suffer? Did you dream of their screams and blood at night?"

"No," Vlad answered, and he was not lying. "Witnessing the suffering of those who sought to overthrow me cause me no guilt. Nor did it give me joy."

"You know, you may not realize it yourself, my lord, but you actually fit into the description of a tyrant."

"I do realize it, Master," he kelt in front of the sitting young man, causing Ritsuka's eyes to widen in surprise. "I molded myself into what I needed to be. And so should you, Master. Once, you were a hero on a quest of salvation, and you acted like a hero, kind and righteous. Now you are a soldier in a war to defend your country and destroy others that invade her, and you must be a soldier. The strategies are clear: there is no question that you must annihilate your foes. A soldier must be merciless, unwavering; hesitation is the greatest enemy on the battlefield."

"I killed little girls," said Ritsuka, his head lowered. "Gelda ... all the years she could've enjoyed I took from her. And the Yagas, they were only trying to survive, and I took that from them as well."

"Yet one of them gave his life for you, have you forgotten? Have you forgotten the words he said to you in his last moment?"

Ritsuka covered his mouth with a hand, his eyes growing red. "How could I?"

"Good. Then do as he told you. Perhaps your enemies do not deserve to die, but they are your enemies."

Ritsuka wiped his eyes. "I wish ... I wish people would know what I did, if the pan-human history could be restored one day. I wish everyone know how much people I killed. I wish they call me by the most terrible names."

"No," Vlad held up his face. "You must not think so. If you defend your country, you are a hero of war. Heroes of war should be rewarded, not condemned."

"If killing little girls is what makes a hero of war, than I'd rather not become one."

Vlad could think of no refutation. He could not help but remember that distant conversation, their discussion about the feasible method to cleanse his name. As his Master said, everything has consequences; you cannot change the effect if you keep the cause unchanged. Was it true that he deserved it, to be called a vampire, as the consequence of his atrocities? He wondered bitterly as he stroked the back of his young Master in his arms.

He turned down Ritsuka's offer of blood; he would not take from him his strength when he needed it the most. For weeks and months he endured the thirst, overcoming three lostbelts with only his own mana. His throat grew dry, and he could feel himself withering like a mummy, but it wasn't enough to cause his death, so he endured still. If even his Master could be condemned for what he did, he had no right to hope for a clean name while acting like a monster. He wanted the vampire tale about him gone, and he would not act like a vampire.

As he pushed his limits further, he received help in a most unexpected manner. One evening, as he finished visiting Ritsuka and was passing through the corridor, he heard a voice calling out to him from behind.

"Mr. Berserker, over there! Can you hear me?"

He turned around to see a young woman with lilac hair and the purple uniform of Atlas. She was no other than Chaldea's newfound supporter; Sion was her name, if he recalled correctly.

"I hear you, ally of my Master," he replied. "What business do you have with me?"

"Oh, splendid! I was worried that perhaps you can't hear me as a Berserker; the Mad Enhancement and all, you know. You're lacking blood, aren't you?" said Sion, her friendly tone forming a strange contrast with her words. "I can tell from your color. You must have been refraining from drinking Mr. Fujimaru's blood. If you don't mind, I can help you."

Vlad narrowed his eyes. "How do you know what I am?"

"My father is a Dead Apostle, and so am I, though I'm far less experienced than him," she replied delightly, showing absolutely no trace of fear. "I recognize a vampire when I see one."

Vlad didn't know how to reply. The young woman told him this fact without shame, as if having a vampire as her father and being a vampire herself was nothing to make a fuss about. To Vlad, he could barely understand how she could be so calm and frank.

"We could control our Vampiric Impulses, but we still need blood somtimes," continued Sion. "My father has the habit of keeping blood banks in places where he would stay for a long time to do his research. There's one in the Wandering Sea, naturally; not as big as the one in Atlas, but it's enough to handle urgent situations. If you'd like to, I can show you there. The store is all refrigerant, and it's artificial blood, so it isn't be as good as warm, fresh human blood, but it will quench your thirst."

This was the last situation he could possibly expect to happen. He knew the existence of Dead Apostles, true vampires in reality; but a fellow vampire offering artificial blood to quench his thirst? It was too scientific and matter-of-fact that it felt bizarre.

But came to think of it, he was really fortunate to receive this kind of help. It was true that he grew weak from lacking blood, and although he endured it willingly out of stubborness, he didn't want to be useless to his Master.

"I accept your kind offer. You have my thanks, lady."

"Good! Let me introduce myself properly; I am Sion Eltnam Sokaris, daughter of Zepia Eltnam Atlasia. You are?"

"Vlad III, son of Vlad II, Voivode of Wallachia."

"Oh," an expression of realization emerged on her face. "I see. Please, follow me."

The blood turned out to be most helpful. It was as the lady had said; not as tasty as fresh blood, but sufficient to quench his thirst and restore his strength. He asked for an extra sack to bring back to Carmilla; it was certainly not enough for a bath, but perhaps she could use it as skin cream or something. As Sion carefully locked the door of the blood bank, Vlad suddenly realized he had a ton of questions, now that he knew she and her father were vampires. What type person was her father? How did they turn into vampires? Wa it an accident or their own choices? How did they look at themselves as vampires?

"Your father," he spoke. "How did he become a Dead Apostle?"

"He managed to do it through his own researches. He transformed a very long time ago, centuries ago. He's actually my ancestor, biologically, but he adopted me as his daughter. It's certain, though, that he did it out of his own will, turning into a Dead Apostle. And it's the same for me; he transformed me after receiving my permisson."

"Why would you turn yourselves into Dead Apostles?"

"For long life, of course. It's not an unusal practice among the magi. Most of the families would choose to pass down their knowledge to their heirs for them to carry on with the research, but some magi may not be content with this, and would try many methods to prolong their lives as much as possible to continue their own research. My father is one of them, and perhaps the most well-known of them. He's the head of Atlas, after all."

"What about your honor? Don't you feel shame to turn into a blood-drinking monster? Don't you feel that it tarnishes your family name?"

"Only failure in research or lack of talent in magecraft tarnish the name of a magus family. Some might be uncomfortable with turning into a vampire, and choose to put faith in their children, or seek other methods. But no, turning into a Dead Apostle is not commonly considered as a shame in the world of magus. I would say many think it's a convenient way to acquire longevity, actually. I personally would loathe the practice of living through obtaining blood from other people, but now that I have artificial blood, I'm not hurting anyone, so I guess I'm okay with this."

It was unusal for Vlad to hear such talk, but he could understand her. At the end, it all came down to the most important goal, and other things such as honor became minor concerns. In the magi's case, their goal was their researches; in Vlad's case, it was defending his own country. He had succeeded, with his reputation as the necessary price he paid.

Then why should he change anything at all?

Soon after, the Master embarked on the journey to Heian-kyō, to defeat his old nemesis Ashiya Douman. Vlad, as a vampire, was advised to remain in the Wandering Sea, since the Onmyouji may possess the skills of exorcim, and he would not have the advantage in a battle against Douman. He accepted the advice, though a little reluctantly, and agreed to remain.

"The blood I gave you," he said to Carmilla when they were in the lounge. "Did it work?"

"Of course not," Carmilla rolled her eyes. "You really think I would allow refrigerant plasma to touch my skin? Not to mention that it was artificial blood. I only use fresh blood, and it has to come from a vrigin. Nevertheless, you have my thanks. I can drink it as well, as a fellow vampire, and I did."

"How did you get your blood before? I don't recall any young female in Chaldea being drained."

Carmilla examined her fingernails carelessly. "I did not. I only collect blood from my enemies."

"I don't believe there were virgin maidens among our enemies."

"No, but I will tolerate lesser blood."

"For our Master?"

"Yes. Who else?"

"Yourself, perhaps?"

"Myself?" Carmilla slowly lowered her hand. "I advise you, Voivode, do not overestimate our similarity."

"Perhaps you've underestimated our similarity," Vlad teased. "Have you stopped quarreling with Countess Báthory?"

Carmilla cast him a sharp glance, but did not continue with the topic. Instead, she returned the fire in another way. "So, how's your hard-to-get going on with our Master?"

"Do you mock me, countess?"

"Save your threats. Do you really think you can hide from me? The boy worships you, and you enjoy it. Why don't you be frank with your desires, like you used to be? Though I can understand how our Master feels; you truly are exquisite in your agony. You are made for tragedy, Voivode."

"What makes you think I will not make you pay for your offense?"

"If I have to pay it, I will gladly do so; I'm still making the offenses though. I live for them."

Vlad was trying to respond, having a feeling that he was going to propose a fight in the simulator, when he felt a strong presence suddenly appearing in the Wandering Sea. Carmilla obviously felt it as well, but no other seemed to notice.

The reason was simple. That presence was a powerful vampire.

"For devil's sake, a fellow," gasped Carmilla.

A voice was calling out to Vlad, a man's voice, intoxicating as the finest wine, and it was in the oh so familiar language of his fatherland. _Vlad Dracula. Vlad the Impaler. Voivode of Wallachia._

"Excuse me," he said as he stood.

"Swimming towards the siren already? I told you, you're made for tragedy, Voivode."

"Do keep your mouth shut for once, Carmilla. I'll return in a moment."

"Will you, now?"

He said no more, turning into a wisp of dark smoke, heading towards the source of the voice. He found himself in the control room after he reached his destination. The room was empty except for him, and the figure that slowly emgered from behind a wall.

The man walked across the room to Vlad. He moved like darkness flowing, like silent grey clouds heralding the arrival of a storm, like a phenomenon rather than a living creature. He stopped at a spot that was a little too fitting to Vlad's liking, near enough to show respect and far enough to make sure he felt safe.

The man - the vampire, the Dead Apostle - was tall (though not as tall as Vlad) and lean, with golden hair reaching his shoulders, skin as pale and smooth as porcelain, and eyes like two pools of blood. Wisdom shone within those eyes, the finesse of youth and the composure of age coexisting on his ageless face. He was clad in an old-fashioned long jacket of dark purple with golden rims; a crimson cravat was carefully set around the collar of his white shirt. His delicate hands were covered in clean white gloves as well. Vlad could not tell what age he was from, just from his appearance and outfit.

"Identify yourself," he commanded.

The man hadn't done anything that offended him, but Vlad felt a strange uneasiness in his presence. Though they were entirely different in details, the general impressions were very similar; both of them were tall, slender men with light blond hair and pale skin, both of them were dressed in somber clothes, and both of them were vampires. It was like looking into a blurry image of himself.

The man did not reply. He gazed at Vlad for a moment, and as if deciding not to say anything, he simply turned around and walked away. Just as Vlad tried to stop him from running, a portal of Rayshift opened all of a sudden, and he walked straight into it, vanishing in the swirl of blue and black.

The portal remained; clearly he was expecting Vlad to follow. Vlad hesitated; Ritsuka was still away on his quest, and normally, he shouldn't be acting on his own. Chaldea was in constant danger, threatened by enemies of unknown power. The last thing he should do was to get into more trouble.

But then the voice called out to him again. _Vlad Dracula. Vlad the Impaler. Voivode of Wallachia._ There was a charm in that voice that made it difficult to resist, even for Vlad. A siren's call, just as Carmilla had said. _Follow me. I will show you the road towards truth and vengeance. I will show you a way to make your wish come true._

He didn't even notice when he stepped into the portal.

He had thought he was used to Rayshift, but somehow this time was totally different. A tearing pain started spreading in his body after he stepped inside, as if his form was being disintegrated and reformed into a new shape. The pained continued until his feet hit solid ground; perhaps only one second had past, or perhaps a century. He panted, trying to find back his breath. When he finally did and stood up straight, Vlad III found himself looking at a familiar sight.

He had arrived in his own country, at his own time.

He recognized the village beneath the hill he was standing on, one near the borders of Wallachia. He recognized the landscape, the fields and the woods and the nighttime sky, the full moon hanging low in the heavens. For a moment he didn't know whether he should be overjoyed or concerned.

The next thing he recognized was the smell of blood, thick in the air like mist, rusty and choking. Even the Impaler frowned at the smell and covered his nose with a hand. Then he realized that he was smelling blood like a human, not breathing in the sweetness of it like a vampire.

Shocked, he observed himself properly, and soon found out the answer. His Saint Graph had changed during the Rayshift; he was now a Lancer instead of a Berserker, and with the Noble Phantasm "Legend of Dracula" closed, he had returned into a human, a normal Heroic Spirit. Mana poured into him from the land beneath his feet, power derived from his fame in his own country. Standing on this ground, Vlad Tepes had the strength to rival even the demi-gods of Greece or the holy princes of Inda.

But those weren't his concerns at the moment. The smell of blood was growing so thick he could feel his own stomach churning. Something was happening in that village. His village. Something wrong. Without second thoughts, he turned into spiritual form and hurried down the hill, going among the simple wooden houses.

The blood was so thick that red mist was visible in the air. Manifesting into material form, Vlad slowly walked on the path. Beside the path, scattering on the ground or hanging from branches of trees, were human skins drained of all inner contents. Bones were carelessly discarded all over the place, so clean as if every one of them were given a thorough licking before it was thrown away.

Disgust and rage burned in Vlad's heart, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Some monster was in this village, some abomination that dared to take the lives of his people.

Finally, when he came in front of the town hall, the only house made of stone in the village, he saw the creature he sought right at the center of the small square, digging his fingers into a skull and sucking the leftover brain fluids clean. The creature looked exactly the same as the golden-haired man Vlad had met in the control room, despite the more flamboyant than elegant clothing, but he needed no explanation to see that they weren't the same person at all.

The creature heard his footsteps and lifted his head, the skull slipping from his fingers, rolling on the ground. The moment he set his blood-red eyes on Vlad, he let out a small cry of delightful surprise, and a smile of genuine joy emerged on his beautiful face.

"Such a pleasure! Isn't this Vlad III, son of the devil, the Voivode of Wallachia, the great hero that defeated the Ottomans?"

"Son of the dragon," Vlad said deeply.

"I'm afraid that won't be how the people remember you from this day on," the man smiled wickedly. "I just took a second to look at the script you're from, and what have I discovered? A system of summoning heroes from the past! What a miracle; shame that it has no use saving the humans of that play."

"Nonsense," though the man's choice of words was a little bizzare, Vlad could still loosely understand what he meant. "My Master summoned me exactly for the purpose of saving humanity!"

"Is that so?" The man laughed as if he had heard something most amusing, and he spread his arms. "Look around you! Look at the end of these people. This is what they expect from you. This is what they've imagined what their lord would do to them."

"What are you talking about?"

"I am no man nor vampire; those are characters from previous acts. I am the phenomenon TATARI, the avatar of rumors and fear. I appear as what humans fear the most. These people, your people, Voivode, they fear you. Long has the rumor spread among them about you being a vampire, a blood-thirsty monster. Hunters stay alert in the deepest woods, fearing your appearance; mothers use you to scare their babes to bed. What perfect stage for my performance! They expected you to 'drink until there's nothing left,' and so I drank until there's nothing left."

So many information was thrusted to him at the same time, but the words and their meaning were still clear enough to stab into Vlad's heart like daggers. "Impossible ... the vampire tale, there was no such thing when I was alive!"

"Oh, you think the fantasy of blood-drinking monsters started from you, dear lord? The people need not create any tale, they simply have to relate you to the monster. Do you think it's that hard, or human beings so noble as to not do this?"

"What ... what exactly are you? Monster of rumors and fear?"

"Avatar of rumors and fear. Yes, my beautiful Voivode; I am you in your people's eyes."

Sorrow had attacked him even before he fully absorbed what he heard. These atrocities he just witnessed ... that was what his people believed he was capable of doing. His head hurt so much as if it was going to split. "No, no! I am not a monster!"

"Of course not. You're just an unfortunate little lord; I am the real monster. You are ... what do characters of your script call it ... an Innocent Monster, aren't you? Just a fake, a stunt for entertainment!"

Vlad raised his head, eyes ablaze with fury. This creature - this being - before him, was mocking him in his own land, his own home, with the blood of his people on his hands and lips.

"You are the monster," he growled. "You? It is you?"

"Clever, Voivode! Yes, me. I am the foreshadowing of your tragic stigmatization in later acts. You are Vlad Dracula the Impaler, but I am Count Dracula the Vampire. Though I'm afraid the later characters would ignorantly mistake me for you."

The world in his eyes turned into a mess of raging black and crimson; mana boiled within his body, and the earth itself shook when the end of his lance pounded on the ground.

"You shall pay, for contaminating the name of my house," Vlad roared in a voice he barely recognized as his own. "You shall pay for my people's blood you shed tonight! You shall pay for the centuries of shame and disgrace I suffered! Yes, TATARI, you shall die, at this moment, at this very place!"

"I'm a phenomenon, my poor Vlad," TATARI was unmoved by his furious threatens and burst of mana. "I do not die."

"Then you should have no problem allowing me to find out if this is true," Vlad raised his lance, and with a fluent motion thrusted it deep into the earth, the powerful chants thundering out of his throat. "Covered in blood, I hereby offer up my life! Kazikli Bey!"

The land, his land, answered his call with the same passion and hatred towards the wretched being. Stakes broke through earth and stone in tens of thousands, surging towards TATARI like the roaring waves on a stormy sea, and his mana materialized into blood, adhering to the stakes and sharpening their tips. The earth and stone themselves turned into stakes as well, along with all the bones of the dead in this village.

His Noble Phantasm changed with his Class. While the stakes used to be generated inside his body when he was a vampire, now that he was the true Voivode of Wallachia, the stakes were formed from his mana and everything else. He gave his all, not withholding a drop of his strength. He was determined to eliminate the disgusting and hateful being in front his eyes, wipe him out from this earth, just like he drove the Ottomans out of his fatherland like a cat chasing mice.

Fangs showed through those cruel, thin lips as TATARI smiled. His feet left the ground, and he was floating like a ghost, his black mantle spreading behind him like the wings of a gigantic bat. Dark smoke surrounded him, much like Vlad used to do as a Berserker; he was truly the manifestation of people's fears. His jaw opened to the unhuman level, almost splitting his entire face like a crack, revealing roles of razor teeth within. He inhaled deeply, and all the blood on Vlad's stakes, as if being summoned by a more powerful source, was drawn into his mouth and down his throat.

It all happened within seconds. Vlad was just starting to widen his eyes in shock when the blood was sucked dry, and a terrible crimson gleam shone in TATARI's eyes, now fully red and bulging in ecstatic madness.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Voivode."

Shadows flashed across his eyes, and searing pain exploding on his neck soon followed. TATARI came near him in no time, so fast even he could not see it. The vampire had turned into a gust of black wind and ignored all of Vlad's attacks, sinking his teeth into the Lancer's neck and sent him flying backwards, breaking through trees and bushes until he hit the hard stone of a hill. Even then his body sank deeply into the rock, breaking beneath the strength of the vampire's claws.

He could not discern how long TATARI had been drinking his blood, in the blinding pain that paralyzed his whole body, so painful that he couldn't even scream. His lance had slipped from his hand, clanging uselessly onto the ground beneath his feet.

At last, the vampire released him, leaving him to slack in the pit inside the rock. Sated and pleased, TATARI licked his lips with the grace of a cat, and those fingers caressed Vlad's cheeks almost gently, leaving trails of red on his porcelain skin.

"Foolish king. I am Dracula the Vampire. All blood is offering to me, and all tyrants my apostles. So is your blood-smeared life my most nutritious food."

Vlad could not comprehend the reason why he lost. In this land, Vlad Tepes had the strength to rival even the demi-gods of Greece or the holy princes of Inda. How could he possibly lose to some nameless monster?

Humiliation rekindled his spirit; he tried to move, but his neck hurt so much he could only let out a high-pitched groan, falling from the pit in the stone onto the ground. He was crawling beneath the vampire's floating feet; anger burned as this realization hit, prompting him to struggle even more, but his vision was swimming. He could barely feel his limbs with so much blood lost, and he had a feeling that his head would be severed from his body if he moved another inch.

But he must not die here. He had his duties to his Master; his strength and life belonged to that young man, and they should be used for the salvation of humanity. He must not be defeated by some nameless vampire, in a world distant from his own.

"Mas ... ter ... " he moaned weakly. His Master could cure him. If only he could return to him ...

"I'm afraid there's no such time left for you, Voivode," the teasing voice came from above. "You're wasting away. You're bleeding to death."

TATARI spoke truly. With what sight he had left, Vlad could see blue particles rising from his hands, while his body slowly turned translucent. He was dying, he was disappearing. He had failed his Master. He had failed his family name in losing to this monster. He was dying, with no dignity or honor, fallen into the lowest of dirt.

"But there's still a chance left, isn't it?" The voice came again, this time more enticing, more evil. "You can still live, and you can still sink lower, O Vlad Dracula."

What was he saying?

"A human could not recover from this wound. But what if you're not human?"

Vlad tensed at the words.

"You are capable of this, aren't you? It's in your character setting, Lancer. Your other Noble Phantasm. 'Legend of Dracula,' I believe it's called? Even this kind of wound is nothing for a vampire. Use that power of yours, and you will live."

"You ... demon ... !"

"Yes, yes I am, right now, at least. Though I can be many other things as well; whatever humans can imagine!"

Hysteric laughter rang in Vlad's ears, hurting his brain even more. All his strength he used to clench his fists, nails digging into the earth.

When he was summoned as a Berserker, a vampire, he could do nothing but accept the fact. The Mad Enhancement helped with the process, forcing him to surrender to his lust for blood. Yet even a year of indulgence in blood-drinking had never reduced his hatred of his tarnished name, his unwanted reputation. He knew in his heart that if he was summoned normally, as the Voivode of Wallachia instead of the prototype of vampire, he would never use his Noble Phantasm "Legend of Dracula" unless forced to, and he would certainly destroy the person who forced him to do so in the worst manner he could think of. Even if he would be defeated and die in battle, he would die as Voivode of Wallachia, not as a bloodthirsty monster.

But he was not dying with honor. He was not dying in a battle for his Master, for the reason why he was summoned in the first place. He was defeated by the very one that tarnished his name, the source of his sufferings in his afterlife.

He must be doing something pathetic, because TATARI's laughter rang in his ears again. Every one of his muscles ached; he was probably writhing on the floor in agony, physical and mental. Possibly making shameful sounds as well; he wouldn't be surprised if he was sobbing. But the clock was ticking, and he had no time left for inner turmoil. He must decide.

And he did.

He turned into mist as soon as the transformation was complete, fleeing the spot. TATARI did not follow. The wound on his neck slowly healed, as he wandered aimlessly in the woods and snatched random small animals to obtain blood. He was still weak, but at least he could live. Darkness and shadows embraced him with cold grasps, and the sound of water and trees and animals were vivid to his senses once more, so vivid that he felt nauseous.

The taste of blood was strong and intoxicating, but his stomach churned with every gulp, and he spit hard after every animal he killed. When he encountered a stream, he knelt there cleaning his hands and mouth, rubbing his skin until he accidentally cut it with his nails. The cut healed immediately, but the sight only disgusted him more.

A day passed before he recovered to the point of being able to walk without staggering. He searched for the scent of TATARI once more, following the trace, and saw several villages and towns slaughtered to the last person. Human skins were scattered on the streets he used to ride through on his horse, and white bones piled in front of town halls he used to stay in, and silence reigned where once were blooming with life. He could bear it no more after encoutering seven of such settlements, kneeling on the ground and just couldn't stop himself from screaming.

He thought he could just die from shame and agony, when a hand suddenly settled on his shoulder. "Voivode," a familiar and unfamiliar voice called to him, and strong arms supported him up. "Let me help you."

He lifted his head to see the man he met in the control room, who had the same face as TATARI. He knew they weren't the same person, but still he pushed the man away in a flush of anger. "Stay away from me!"

"I understand, Voivode. Let's go back to the Wandering Sea," said the man. "Your Master has returned."

He was dragged into the portal, and soon his feet landed on familiar ground, and the cool, humid air of the Wandering Sea welcomed him like home. He slapped the man's hand away as soon as the Rayshift was complete. "Who are you? What's your connection with that monster? Why did you bring me to that place?"

"Shh, Voivode, speak not. Questions can be reserved for later," his voice was having that strange enchantment again, and no matter how much he resented his touch, Vlad found himself unable to resist when slender fingers gently combed through his hair. "Do not be frightened," the man soothed him with that elegant voice. "Though you are a Heroic Spirit, I am still older and more experienced than you, both as a living creature and as a vampire."

He relaxed under the man's strange charm, feeling his breath growing even. "Go to your Master," the man told him. "You need his blood, and you need his comfort. Come back after you regain your strength and sanity."

Vlad hurried towards Ritsuka's room after the man released him. His Master was the only thing on his mind; he could barely think about anything else. He turned into mist and directly entered the bedroom, forgetting his manners in his desperation.

Ritsuka was clearly preparing for sleep; when he laid eyes on Vlad, he sprang up from his bed and ran to him, his expression full of concern, his hands grabbing the taller man's shoulders. "Vlad, where have you been! Carmilla said you're gone, but I couldn't find you anywhere, and I didn't feel you at all. What happened to you? Why're you in such a bad shape?"

Without answering any of those questions, Vlad pulled the young man into his embrace and sank his teeth into the thumping veins on the neck. Ritsuka groaned in surprised as he was pushed back and fell into his bed; the vampire pinned him beneath the lean, powerful body, strong limbs trapping him like iron bars. Vlad drank with the passion of a man in despair, thirsty and lustful; the smell of Ritsuka's freshly bathed skin and the feel of his body against him made him shudder, and he threw his head back and sighed after he finished, licking his lips and then bending down to clean the boy's throat with his tongue, not wanting to waste a drop of the intoxicating fluid. He pressed his lips frantically to where his teeth sank, drawing moans and pants from his Master, his hands messing up the boy's dark hair, still a little moist after washing.

When their eyes met, it was a desperate monster looking into the eyes of a rutting teenager. He had not withheld his charm in his haste and despair, and it didn't take long for Ritsuka to succumb. Eyes bright with lust and hazy with drunkenness, Ritsuka pushed the sated vampire onto bed and straddled his hips, sealing their lips together in a fit of passion.

The kiss was inexperienced, virginal. It was wrong. Vlad put his hands on his shoulders, as if to resist him, but soon he found himself winding his arms around the young man's neck, pressing him down and taking control of the kiss. He guided his young Master with his tongue, eyes half-lidded as Ritsuka tasted the rust of blood in his mouth and on his teeth. He succumbed as well, too weak to summon his dignity and self-control. Ritsuka quickly undid Vlad's coat and lifted his tunic, trailing his lips down to mouth at the pale skin revealed.

"You're so beautiful ... " Ritsuka whispered. "I want you, Vlad ... I've wanted you since the first time I saw you."

The words should be offensive, but with Ritsuka's mouth closing around a bared nipple, it suddenly became the strongest aphrodisiac. His Master had wanted him; he had possessed the young man's heart since the beginning. Vlad carelessly discarded his tunic on the ground, winding his fingers into dark hair, letting out deep, long moans that could hardly be called dignified. Ritsuka teased him a little before quickly moving on, pulling down his breeches and boots to run his mouth across the skin on his knees and thighs. The vampire growled as he felt warm breath tickling between his legs, pulling the young man up to tear open his clothing, his hands roaming every inch of smooth, healthy skin. He palmed the youth's hardened cock with one hand, and another fisting in his hair to entice a pained and lusty moan.

"Suck me," he commanded in a whisper. "Use your mouth on me, my Master."

Ritsuka blushed, the pink on his cheeks reminding Vlad of blood. He pressed the head down between his legs, and the boy compliantly opened his lips, taking the lord's erection into his mouth. Vlad bit his lips at the heat encompassing him, holding the boy in place with his hand, but neither pushing nor pulling. The boy sucked him from crown to balls, tongue grazing every inch of skin, and when he swallowed his teeth occassionally scratched the sensitively flesh, but Vlad arched his back in excitement and did not stop him. He liked the pain, needed it really, and he welcomed it.

"Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Master ... !" He hissed in his pleasure, biting his lips and stopping the boy from going further. "Alright, stop, enough ... Oh Lord ..."

Ritsuka rested his head on his chest, recovering his breath. Vlad pulled him up to meet his eyes. "Now, inside me. I want to feel you."

"We ... we need something ... " Ritsuka stammered. "To make it easier."

"This will suffice," Vlad bit open his wrist and smeared his blood on Ritsuka's palm and fingers, and then on the youth's cock. "It's fitting. The first blood on your sword."

Ritsuka grew even redder, but perhaps because the charm had emboldened him, he surged forward to claim Vlad's lips instead of recoiling. They sucked at each other's lips as Ritsuka spread his legs, warm palm sliding down his inner thigh. The boy insisted upon preparing him with fingers, and though Vlad appreciated his patience and caring, he was longing for the sensation of being breached and split. He wanted to be punished, to receive the humiliation he deserve, as he used to be treated by the Ottomans when he was young whenever he did something rebellious.

"You okay?" Ritsuka asked as he finished the preparations, aligning himself with the entrance.

"Make haste!" Was Vlad's only response.

The process of penetration was every bit as painful and delicious as he wanted. To a vampire's cold body, the fully flushed cock was like a red-hot iron bar thrusting into him. He swore he could feel his Master's frantic heartbeat inside him, and the way it stretched and skewered him was pure wonder. Vlad arched and moaned, his brows furrowed in pain, like Christ suffering on the cross before death.

"Mmmh! Voivode ... Berserker ... Vlad ... " Ritsuka mouthed the vampire's jaw, slowly but firmly rocking his hips back and forth. "Oh, I want you ... I want you so badly ... Oh, my king ... I worship you! So gorgeous ... I love you, I love you!"

Vlad could barely hear those words; his only sensation was the burning member within him thrusting deep and firm, sending shivers up his spine whenever the tip pounded into the right spot. His fingers left long bloody marks on Ritsuka's back, his long legs wrapping around the youth's hips, urging him to pick up the speed. "Harder," he demanded in a husky voice, and when he sensed his young Master falling apart from the joy, he pulled his head down to nibble at his ear, pleading breathily. "No, not so fast! Please, Master ... do this for me."

Ritsuka bit his lips, enduring the overflowing as much as possible, his fingers sinking into the skin on Vlad's hips. Nevertheless he came soon after, being a newly broken virgin, panting as he collapsed onto his Servant's body. Unsatisfied, Vlad let out a deep huff, pushing Ritsuka back in bed instead, straddling him with the youth's soft cock still inside him. He bit down on Ritsuka's neck once more, using his charm freely and unabashed; the boy writhed as lust was kindled in him again, and Vlad was content to feel the cock inside him filling him hot and full.

Pinning Ritsuka's wrists to the bed, he rolled his hips and rode his young Master hard and fast, his shame forgotten. The cock went deeper inside him in this position, and with every move his insides quivered in delight, his body nearing the bliss he so desperately sought. When he lowered his head searching for breath, he saw Ritsuka staring up at him with eyes dark and lustful as the stormy seas, full of passionate longing and worship. He tipped over the edge being stared by that gaze, coming so hard his head turned into a mess of bright hot madness. He dropped his head onto his Master's shoulder, trembling as Ritsuka held his hips and thrusted up a few times, filling him yet again.

His body ached sweetly with sated lust, but with his mana refilled and strength recovered from the sex, the desperation was replaced by another type of burning passion. His Master was beneath him, breathing heavily and eyes half-lidded, beautiful in his exhaustion and compliance, thoroughly his. Vlad wanted to claim him, mark him as his own, as a king would do to the subdued. Eyes ablaze with the need to conquer, he flipped Ritsuka's lean body so that the boy bared his backside to him, ignoring the surprised gasp.

Reaching behind, he gathered some of the dripping fluid between his own legs, and thrusted his moistened fingers inside the virginal hole. Ritsuka let out some small, short groans, but the effect of the charm continued, and soon his body was adjusting to the sensation, enjoying the rhythmic thrusts. Vlad licked the blood marks on the young man's back clean, before hastily pulling out his fingers and replaced them with his cock instead.

Pleasure and satisfaction welled up within him as he gazed at the tanned muscles shifted beneath, listening to rapid, high-pitched moans of helpless lust. Vlad was silent, though his face contorted in pleasure; he had always been silent in bed, finding no words for such carnal and primitive act. Nor was he a man to indulge, so there was no real skill in his love-making. The tight heat and contractions pushed him to climax, but he endured until his Master found release at one particular powerful thrust, only then, watching the delicate shoulder blades arching on his Master's back, did he allowed himself to come, fulfilling his desire with satiating climax.

Slowly and carefully, after he came down from his ecstacy, he lay down on bed and gathered his Master into his arms. The young man was already drifting off with head on his chest, and his own limbs felt as heavy as lead. Vlad knew somewhere in his heart, that by the time he woke everything would change, but nevertheless he succumbed to his contentment, closing his eyes to allow sweet darkness to reign.

"Nothing. Nothing happened! I'm a weakling, a beast, and I acted like one; that is all."

"Please stop this, my lord," Ritsuka tried to make him look at him, but Vlad turned his face further away.

"You better not touch me again. I seduced you, and I defiled you. I am unworthy now."

"Well, I don't remember resisting, so I guess I'm an accomplice?"

"It was the charm. I used it, I knew what effect it has, but I used it still."

"Right ... but that's not the point, Vlad!" Ritsuka shook his shoulders. "The point is, there must be a reason. I know you would never do such a thing, so something must have happened to you. Please, be honest with me. Perhaps it's something shameful, but I don't care, I can't care less. I won't leave you alone or despise you when you need my help."

"I care. You should despise me. I despise myself."

"And why is that? Tell me, Vlad. Look at me."

"No. The last thing I want is for you to see me like this."

"Then do it however you like, just speak. Tell me what happened."

Long and hard was the process of summoning courage, but at last Vlad told him everything, his encounter, his defeat, his shame. Ritsuka listened to every word, and when he finished, he neither despised him or pitied him, only crushed their lips together with the passion and pain of a lover. Vlad had wanted to push him away, but he pressed his body against his, and all such thoughts vanished from his head.

When they broke apart, Ritsuka asked, "The man, the vampire you mentioned. Is he still here?"

Vlad reached out with his senses. "Yes. He's still in the control room, right where I left him last night."

"Let's go meet him, shall we?" Ritsuka caressed his cheeks gently. "I'll go with you. I am your Master."

Vlad was silent.

"Say yes, Vlad."

"Yes."

Ritsuka gave him a final light kiss full of adoration, and pulled him up from bed. "We need to clean up a bit if we're going to a formal meeting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Story of Vlad III's Interlude 2.  
> [2] Description of Vlad III's max bond craft essence "Triumph of the Impaling Lord." Comment from Mehmed the Conqueror about Vlad after seeing the impaled corpses on the battlefield.


End file.
